


Heartbeat Lullabies

by DopeyTheDwarf



Series: Marvel Polyship Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marvel Polyship Bingo, Multi, Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Laura Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DopeyTheDwarf/pseuds/DopeyTheDwarf
Summary: “I really am fine.”Laura just snorts.“You once said you were fine after you got shot in the gut thrice, Nat.”“Well, I promise I have not been shot in the gut thrice this time.” A smile is playing on her lips, and by the lilt in Laura’s voice, she guesses there is already one on Laura’s. “It’s just, y’know… monsters under the bed. That kind of thing?”(Or, Natasha tries to sleep in the bathtub. Clint and Laura set her right.)
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Marvel Polyship Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685938
Comments: 24
Kudos: 141
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020, Natasha Bingo





	Heartbeat Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks for whenfandomscollide for beta reading my story!

The bathtub is cold. Natasha barely holds back a shiver as the cold seeps deep into her skin, into her muscles, into her bones. It's hard against her back, and it is only by small mercy that it is not wet too. The shirt she stole from Clint, while soft and comfortable, is much too thin to offer any actual protection now. Still, she has slept in worse places. At least the tub in the Farm's ensuite bathroom was big enough to fit her. 

Her body hurts from the last mission, and while nothing is broken, her bruises have bruises and she almost keeled from exhaustion in the medbay. Briefly, she entertains the thought of just sneaking back into bed between Clint and Laura - thinks of waking up wrapped tightly in their arms. And then she shakes herself with a growl and a mean mutter about how she used to survive Russian winters wearing tights. She needs sleep - preferably one deep enough that not even her nightmares can reach her, and that’s not going to happen if she stays in their bed.

She sighs. Instead, she plops into the tub pretending it’s their California king instead of porcelain. She’s too well trained to leave evidence like extra linens lying around, but her back is sore and so are her ribs. The hard surface is not doing either any favors, so she wiggles around trying to find a position kind enough to both.

And then the handcuffs in her pocket clang against the tub, and Natasha stops breathing.

She stills, body tensed and ears straining. There is a slight shuffling of blankets before the room stills. And then a sneeze. And then a pillow dropping. And then nothing. For a good long minute, there is nothing, and so Natasha restarts her breathing. It takes even longer to ease most of the tension in her shoulders. 

With a grunt, Natasha frees the handcuffs from her pants. It's a basic set with a basic lock and basic keys. It would take six seconds tops to get out of them, and Natasha notes - with quite a lot of bitterness - that it's the exact same model the Red Room used on all of their trainees. They all learned to break out of them by age eight, but none of them did. By age ten, cuffing themselves to the bed was the only way to sleep.

 _Six seconds_. She can get out of these cuffs in six seconds. 

She thinks of Clint or Laura or - _god forbid_ \- the kids finding her chained to their tub, and her stomach churns. For a moment, she considers just waiting out the week, but the very thought of it makes her body ache. Her last mission had her going for 36-hour stretches with very little rest, and she is far from recovered just yet.

So she takes a deep breath, and without further ado, snaps one end of the cuff to her wrist, and the other tap. Immediately, her muscles loosen, and the chill of the bath fades away. It no longer matters how much the porcelain makes her back hurt, Natasha finally feels warm and safe. She also has seconds to feel the familiar shame before she’s fast asleep.

\---

She’s not sure what wakes her. It can be argued that Natasha might not even be awake at all. All she knows is that one minute she’s fast asleep, and the next, she is wrenching her thumb out of its socket and hopping out of the tub as if it’s on fire. Her heart is racing, and she barely manages to pop her thumb back in before the door opens, and Laura pops her head in.

“Nat? You alright in there?”

Laura’s voice is still thick with sleep. Her eyes are still closed, choosing instead to find her way by touch. The comforter is slung over her shoulders like a huge unruly cape, and Nat fails to contain a giggle when she stumbles over the blanket. The hand not keeping the cloth in place is reaching out for her, and Nat only gives herself a moment more before catching Laura’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Her thumb throbs when Laura squeezes back, but the touch is grounding, and Nat’s heart has only started to calm down, so she takes comfort where she can.

“Hey, love.” She keeps her voice low not wanting to jolt Lara awake. “What are you doing up?”

“Your side cold.” Laura pops one eye open at last. Nat does not know how such a sleepy gaze can be so baleful, but it is. “Didn’t like it… You alright?”

Laura squints at her, both eyes finally open. Her gaze is piercing despite the sleepy haze, and Natasha can’t help but squirm under it. Suddenly, the throbbing of her thumb is thrown into sharp relief, but when she tries to take her hand back, Laura’s hold only tightens. 

“I’m… I’m fine, Laura,” she manages to answer. “Just a bad dream.”

The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, but she has no idea how else to answer. The need to run is suddenly overwhelming, but Natasha is keenly aware of the handcuffs still locked on the tap, and really, they live in the middle of nowhere. Her skin is prickling from the need to move, but Laura’s gaze keeps her still and silent. And when Laura wraps her in the comforter, Natasha surprises both of them by going for a hug instead. She tucks herself under Laura’s chin and breathes in her lover’s scent until her heart finally stills. They are quiet for a long moment, but Natasha’s skin is no longer crawling and she finally feels safe, so she lets them have their moment.

“I really am fine.” 

Laura just snorts.

“You once said you were fine after you got shot in the gut thrice, Nat.”

“Well, I promise I have not been shot in the gut thrice this time.” A smile is playing on her lips, and by the lilt in Laura’s voice, she guesses there is already one on Laura’s. “It’s just, y’know… monsters under the bed. That kind of thing?”

“What would help?”

Clint’s voice echoes in the bathroom and startles them both. Unlike Laura’s sleep-heavy eyes, Clint is completely alert and wide awake. His gaze slips to the direction of the bathtub, and she knows her ruse is up. He takes her hand - the one with the thumb she dislocated - and kisses the knuckle ever so gently. She’s still burritoed in the comforter, and Laura’s arms have only wrapped themselves more tightly around her. She is warm and safe - and this time it’s real, unlike the illusions the handcuffs gave her.

All of a sudden, the exhaustion just crashes on her. Her legs turn jelly-like, and before she knows it, they are buckling from beneath her weight. The pain in her thumb turns white-hot, and suddenly any and all movement makes her muscles spasm with pain. The exhaustion seeps deep into her bones, and her stomach churns until it’s all she can do to not run to the sink and vomit. She crumbles. She only remains upright because of Laura’s support. Suddenly, she is in Clint’s arms, and before she knows it, she is being laid down on their bed, her lovers worriedly fussing over her.

“You said you were fine, Nat!” 

“Thought…” And here she can only groan. “Thought I was.”

“You came out of the mission hours ago!” Clint props her up a bit as Laura fixes the sheets around her. “Shouldn’t the crash have happened hours ago?”

There is a beat of silence. And then both Laura and Clint groan. 

Natasha could not look either of them in the eye. All the pain she had been suppressing the past few days had suddenly crashed over her. What was simple exhaustion a few minutes ago had morphed into sharp pain and constant spasms that make the littlest movements feel like fire in her bones. The cold too has returned in full force, and her teeth chatter even as her lovers bury her in all the blankets they can gather.

She barely notices Laura leave until Clint is propping her up, and there is a twisty straw poking at her lips. Natasha grimaces, but a single look at Laura’s worried face has her grudgingly drinking the water provided.

“That’s it, love. You’re doing great.” Laura’s voice is exceedingly gentle. “We’ll let you sleep after this okay? Just let us take care of you.”

It is all Natasha can do to not break down in hysterical tears. She _wants_ the comfort they are offering so badly, the desire hurts almost as much as her body does. She leans into Clint, his body steady and grounding beside her. His fingers are gently playing with her hair, even as he tells her to breathe with him. And then there is Laura fluttering around the room, bringing out hot packs and sponges from all sorts of hidden compartments in their room. 

But her wrist is bare, and her mind can’t stop noting the entrances and exits, the possible weapons around. Each creak and rattle makes her twitch with agitation, and Natasha just wants it _all_ to stop. Her mind doesn’t understand safety even when her - broken, _traitorous_ \- body does. 

Natasha is crying - but she doesn’t even realize until Laura is wiping the tears away.

“Nat…” Laura’s voice breaks. There are tears running down her cheeks too, but she merely tucks the blankets tighter around Nat when she tries to wipe them away. “Love, you just collapsed ten minutes ago! What can we do to help?”

And the thing is Nat knows exactly what would help. She thinks of the cuffs still on chained to the tub, and suddenly there is a huge lump in her throat she cannot swallow. But the shame is hot in her gut, and while Clint knows already, she wants to spare Laura this - wants to spare _herself_. She thinks of the twisty straw, the comforters, and the hands hovering over her skin as if there could ever be a world where Laura Barton would ever hurt _her_.

She looks to Clint, begging with her eyes for something - _anything_ \- to fix this, begging for a way out that would leave all of them whole instead of broken. She’d follow whatever lie he’d concoct - be whichever person she needs to be just to stay. She has been taught not to want decades ago, but selfishly, she _wants_ Laura.

But Clint only looks back to her with eyes so soft and pained.

“Nat, she won’t think any less of you.” There is a plea in his voice - for trust, maybe. “Please believe that she loves you as much as I do.”

Laura has stilled beside them. It is as if she is holding her breath, and Natasha understands because she is too. Her heart is hammering in her chest again, and the shame feels like acid in her gut. But Clint’s plea is also a promise, and Natasha remembers easily that it was Laura who sought her tonight - the one who wrapped her nice and tight in comforters, trying to make the cold go away.

And so Natasha buries her face on Clint’s shoulder, and with a hiccupping sob, she nods.

There is a moment of silence. Then Clint’s hand moves to clutch her wrist. His forefinger traces the scars from all the years she spent cuffed to a bed, and Laura’s breath hitches. There is a shuffle, and Natasha lets herself slump. She curses herself for the stupid hope and moves to leave. She will not be the one to drive Laura away.

But suddenly, something heavy snaps around her wrist, and a hand much softer than Clint’s weaves itself through her fingers. She looks up in shock, only to be met with a watery kiss. And when Laura finally moves away, she looks at Nat with eyes so full of love and pain, Natasha forgets to breathe for a moment.

“I love you, Nat.” 

“I…”

“No! Listen to me!” Laura’s voice shakes from her conviction. “I love you, and I know you don’t believe me yet, but I do…”

Laura’s voice breaks then, but Natasha can only sit there frozen, her aching body forgotten for the moment. Laura lifts Natasha’s scarred wrist until the little laurels of the bracelet glint in the light of their lamp.

“Laura... what?”

“I love you.” Her finger massages the blooming bruise by Natasha’s thumb. “I know Clint gave you the arrow necklace already, so I wanted you to have something of me too. And I don’t know if it’ll work, but all the better if it helps you sleep too right?”

Her voice lilts with both hope and nervousness, but her eyes don’t shy away from Natasha’s. Laura looks at her as if she hung the stars in the sky, and slowly but surely, Natasha’s mind quiets, and the cold seeps away from her limbs at long last. Natasha nods, unable to speak anymore. She takes Laura’s love with a watery smile and settles herself in the middle of their huge bed, her back to Clint and her face buried in Laura’s chest, letting Laura’s heartbeat set the pace for her own heart. 

With the weight of Laura’s promise on her wrist, sleep - nice, _deep_ sleep - calls out to her finally.


End file.
